


Ballad

by achemicalwriter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, John Watson is a Good Doctor, John Watson's Blog, John is a Mess, M/M, POV John Watson, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sharing a Room, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-06 00:25:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16821439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achemicalwriter/pseuds/achemicalwriter
Summary: John enters in Finchdale as a student in his last year of school and gets roped into the wild ass adventures that Sherlock Holmes partakes in. See our baker boys go from friends to best friends to boyfriends!This written differently than other fics but I don't know how to explain it is, just read to find out.





	Ballad

**Author's Note:**

> Second official attempt of writing a fic on ao3! But this time I plan on actually going through with it lol. Let me know what you think of it, and please, share with friends if you like it!
> 
> I don't know what my.posting schedule will be, maybe every two weeks? Idk, we'll see how everything goes. 
> 
> Anyway, in to battle!!

  
  
At first John was not happy with the decision of transferring to Finchdale. It didn't matter to him that it had been his dad's "home away from home". His family needs him and going to some school thirty miles away won't help. Not to mention the money they didn't have to pay for the school.   
  
It was quite prestigious and he had been surprised that they considered him at all to walk among the grounds. A vase in a hallway probably costed more than the family car.  
  
"Don't you worry about that Johnny, just worry about your grades," was all his mum said on the matter. But he did worry, often. She never mentioned money problems to him but she didn't have to.   
  
John faced the window and looked at the rolling hills pass by as the city life faded into the background. His bags filled the empty seat beside him, a sign to any new passenger in the train that it's best if he's left alone. He tried to remember the last time he had even been in the countryside but no memory came up.   
  
The memory of his mum and Harry standing at the bus stop floats into his mind. His mum, trying not to cry in public waved and tried to smile as her second eldest child is being sent off to a posh boarding school. Harry with her stance wide and protective, adorned a look only saved for terrible times. Their father always said that she was too dramatic for her own good which caused to her to leave as a ghost of her former self and care too little about things that should matter the most.  
  
He tried not think of recent events that have affected him greatly but it pushed its way into his conscience. The divorce, his dad leaving and never really looking back. The sudden but not really new happening of his mum's drinking. Guilt grew in John's stomach, making him almost physically sick. How could he leave his mum? In a time like this? What kind of son was he? He felt himself already spiraling down a path that was hard to walk out of.  
  
Ella would have a field day with this. She would tell him that he shouldn't blame himself on something that was bound to happen. If he is having certain thoughts about certain things that don't exactly need to be mentioned he needs to tell her.   
  
He pushed all of this out of his mind, only focusing on the condensation rolling down the window and into the pane of glass.  
  
An announcement sounded on an old intercom in the corner of the train "Stop thirteen, from London to Makanshire. Please exit." John heaved his heavy luggage and hobbled off the car, up the stairs and into the empty streets ready to hail a cab.  
  
It didn't take long, it was a small town and John was one of few people on the streets. The cabbie helped him with his bags and didn't comment on the limp in his leg as everybody else usually does. He makes light conversation on the weather, the horrible traffic Makanshire's having, even asks where John is headed.  
  
"Finchdale, sir. A boarding school not far from here." John kindly replied. He kept looking out the window wishing the traffic could hurry just a bit faster for his sake.  
  
"Oh, a boarding school, seems nice." The cabbie said, looking into the rearview mirror. "Ever been into the countryside, or are you a city lover?" He asked then, giving a small chuckle.   
  
John gave a small chuckle back and smiled tightly. "Never been to the country but it sounds nice." He took out his camera and began to fiddle with it, hoping the cabbie saw it as some sort of signal of an end to the conversation. Thankfully he didn't speak another word much to John's relief.   
  
Traffic started up again, and they slowly wind their way through the roads to their destination. John watched again as the city life slowly trickled away letting trees grow more and more together, and buildings became less prominent.   
  
Why does he need to go to a school so far in the country anyway? What's the point of that, he'll get the same education as he did at his old school, so what does it matter?  
  
He can hear Ella's voice say to him "This will be good for you, a change of scenery is what you need."   
  
John rubbed the spot in his shoulder that was suddenly giving him pain.  
  
Fifteen minutes later the cab pulled into a graveled driveway, passing two marvelous iron gates that were towering over them. As soon as the car stopped outside of the crumbling walls that led into the estate itself, John eagerly toppled out, nearly tripping over himself. The cabbie opened the rear and helped him gather his luggage up, kindly offering to help John all the way to where he needed to go.   
  
"Don't worry I got it, thank you though." John politely declined. He didn't have much money in his wallet but he paid his fare and gave extra as well just so it didn't seem like John was a prick.  
  
As the car pulled away, he couldn't help but wonder if there was an instruction manual on how to act at a posh school or something like that. Oh, well, guess he'll have to go about this by himself like always.   
  
He picked up his luggage, falsified his confidence, and walked with his head held high through the gates of Finchdale.  
  
°•°•°•°•°•°•°  
  
After gathering directions from two fourteen year olds, that helped him in no way, shape, or form, John finally came about the boarding house he was assigned to.  
  
There were six boarding houses, three for girls and three for boys. They were all categorized by names who influenced greatly within history. His boarding house was named accordingly - Doyle.  
  
_Okay, you can do this, yeah?_ John thought to himself. _Right. Yes._  
  
He hiked his knapsack higher on his shoulder to avoid pain. While trying to balance his sports bag on top of his suitcase, John attempted to open the front door with full hands but failed in doing so. It wouldn't have worked anyway, there had to be a passkey for it.  
  
Thankfully a few students noticed his struggle and opened the door for him. He muttered a quick thank you and dragged his luggage in behind him. He would have to make a point to get a passkey.  
  
Walking into the foyer, he noticed that it seemed to be newly refurbished but still exuded an air of sophistication. A grand staircase reached up into the second floor no doubt leading to the student's rooms, to his left there were two adjoining rooms, a small kitchenette and what seems to be a spacious common room.   
  
He heard the commotion of rowdy boys coming from that direction and decides to head there. He opened the door to reveal a small group of boys circled around each other, laughing with one another. It looked to be a comfortable room. A sofa sat in corner across from a fire place with two boys lounging comfortably on top. All around were things to make this place feel like home, a small piano in the back, dart board, table tennis, a flat screen in the corner with the sofa.   
  
One of the boys looked up at John, which caused the rest to look too. "Can I help you mate?"   
  
"Oh yes, hi," he replied. "I'm new here, my name's John. John Watson."   
  
A subtle whisper went around the room sizing up him just from looks alone. He stood in the doorway, fidgeting a bit under the stares.  
  
He was starting to think that maybe this was a bad idea until a familiar voice made itself known from th back of the room.  
  
"John Watson, you say? Remember me, Mike Stamford?"  
  
John looked for the source of the voice and found a husky boy about his age beaming at him. He was taller than john, towering over him by a few inches, a round face with round glasses and bright eyes. Suddenly it clicked for him of who he was.   
  
Without thinking a smile stretched onto his face as he greeted Mike. "Mike! What are you doing here? Come here you git!" John pulled him into a hug, both patting each other on the back.  
  
Mike leaned back and took a look at John. "Moved here when I turned fourteen, been here ever since. I'm on the rugby team too. What brings you here? Last time I heard, you were going to stay in Darnier, what happened?"  
  
John stiffened at the mention of his old school but only for a fraction of a second. His smile suddenly felt too thin and began to droop down. "Mum wanted me to go to my dad's old school, felt like it was better than Darnier." That wasn't a lie but not the whole story either.  
  
Mike laughed in response, not noticing John's change, and began to move around towards the door. "You want help with your bags? Could show you your room if you'd like."  
  
"Oh really? That's great, yeah thanks." John turned around and proceeded to gather some of his luggage and follow Mike up the grand staircase to the student's rooms.   
  
As they ventured farther up h breaths became shorter and more forced meanwhile Mike is chattering away, definitely not huffing and puffing like John.  
  
"We've got newbies in the past before but never in our year so I'm happy to see you," Mike spoke as he climbed up the stairs. John took note of his friend's husky build and muscles that had appeared from the years of rugby.   
  
"Happy to be here," John huffed out. He felt his shoulder sag under the weight of his backpack but ignored it and walked on.  
  
They made it to the top of the staircase, finally, and continued down a corridor of doors on both sides. Some doors were open, some were not yet John could hear the familiar rumble of boy's laughter ring throughout the hall.  
  
Mike described in detail about the layout of where everything is, the rules that apply and the unspoken rules among the boys. "Each side you've got a room, one side of the room has two beds bunked with two desks side by side. Every room has their own bathroom, thankfully, and with a first aid kit inside the cabinet. Lights out by ten, we go to town every Sunday, and most importantly, you don't snitch on anyone."   
  
John took all of this in stride as they became closer to his room. The way the room was set up didn't seem to bother him much by the way Mike had explained it. He was thankful for his own private bathroom, well him and his roommate's bathroom. From the sound of it, John had a feeling that he would do just fine here, a small glimmer of hope.  
  
Curiosity finally got the best of him as to who his roommate was. He decided to ask Mike, he might know. "Say, do you know who I'm rooming with?"  
  
John could see Mike visibly wince. Was he that bad? He stopped walking and turned around to face him. He set down the bags he was carrying and took a deep breath in. He seemed hesitant to talk but decided to anyway.  
  
Mike carefully chose how to phrase his sentence. "You see mate, your roommate isn't exactly, what's the words? Ideal you could say," he explained.   
  
John laughed incredulously. What could make him so terrible of a roommate? "What, does he perform crazy experiments like a mad scientist?" John joked.  
  
Mike nodded solemnly.  
  
John's eyes bugged. "You're serious? What else is he like?"  
  
"It's a bit hard to explain but we're almost there so you'll just meet him for yourself and then you assess what he's like then."  
  
Mike picked up John's bags then resumed walking down the hall to John's room. Just like he said, it didn't take much longer to reach it. The door had the number twenty one engraved into its wood that was the color of mahogany. It appeared quite rustic, fitting in perfectly with the ambience of the building.  
  
It sat across room twenty two which were both located at the end of the hall. The door also had a mini white board attached in the corner, it had a marker but it was blank. John noticed that while the other doors had at least some stickers or writing, this door had none of the sort. Mike gave an anxious glance before opening the door.  
  
John walked in towards the middle of the room and did a mini spin taking it all in.  
  
Just as he was promised there were indeed bunk beds occupying one half of the room and desks in the other half. There were also two wardrobes on either side with a full length mirror in between and a bathroom down the middle splitting the room. It's a good size, definitely cozy and not stuffy. It had muted sea green walls with different frames of art covering it. On the ceiling was a mini chandelier brightly lighting up the room when Mike had flicked the light switch.  
  
"Sherlock? Are you there?" Mike strolled in, setting down the luggage as he did so.  
  
Silence answered back. No one seemed to be here. For reasons unknown he found that to be a bit strange.  
  
Mike looked at John in apology. "I guess he isn't here at the moment," he reasoned. Mike roamed over to the doorway with his body halfway out. "I guess you'll meet him later then, yeah? I suppose I'll let you get settled in. Good luck with everything."   
  
"Yeah, see you later," John waved off. Mike disappeared leaving John alone. He glanced around the room in a daze deciding what to do next. Unpacking, that's what's next.  
  
John claimed the bottom bunk, he needed to be on the bottom in case his nightmares forced him to fall off. The school required to bring a pillow and a single blanket so John fetched his and made his bed.   
  
Getting up, he unpacked his clothing into his wardrobe placing them into drawers and placing them upon hangers. Finchdale did not require uniforms so John was able to bring his personal clothes. They did however, heavily encourage students to wear clothing from their website that had the school crest stitched in.   
  
After placing his toiletries inside of the bathroom, John was finally done. It did take him some time to do so, he chose to bring most of home with him so he wouldn't feel lonely during his stay.  
  
He didn't know what to do next so he resolved to sitting on his bed going through his camera that he pulled out of his bag.  
  
It was one of those professional cameras, a Nikon, costed a lot of money. It wasn't John's decision to get it in the first place. It was a part of his therapy, Ella suggested that he take pictures, to capture any emotion that he was feeling. He thought that to be a bit foolish because he had never been skilled in the arts. He only bought it a few weeks ago so he was still rubbish at it. His camera roll consisted of dreary trees and different fields of grass captured in a weird angle. Ella had told him that he was certainly getting better at it but he didn't see it. She stated to him that this was supposed to be an outlet for him but the only thing it seemed to do was make him feel even more useless than before.  
  
John had thought because he is now farther away from home that his sessions with Ella would decrease but that hasn't been the case. Instead of twice a week it has been moved up to three times a week; Sunday, Wednesday, and Saturday. It's not that he doesn't think he needs it because John knows very well that he needs therapy. But this will be his third year and while he and Ella have come a long way he has danced with progress for quite some time.   
  
Some days are better than others, he's able to get things done and be productive like he should. On those days he sees how things are getting better for him. The other days are the hardest though, the days when he can't sit up because of the weight on his chest won't let him move. Not that he would want to move, staying in bed would be much better than having to deal with the world and everyone in it.  
  
After looking through six more pictures of some dreadful trees with a horrible filter covering it, he considered taking a walk.  
  
John did end up walking around campus so that he wouldn't get lost trying to find his classes in the future. The buildings were just as beautiful as they were described in the pamphlet he was given. There were two buildings dedicated to the core subjects, types of sciences and maths were in one, history and English literature in the other. Any subject on art though was coupled with the gym for physical education.   
  
He walked along the path that went through the heart of the whole setting. In the middle it had a small fountain with benches surrounding it. When John sat down on one, he could see straight through two buildings that showed the front gates. Parked there was a fancy looking van with people around it. They were unloading bags from the trunk so John figured this was a student arriving late.  
  
He had been right, the kid who seemed about his age that were standing around started walking past the car and over to the front building towards the office. John paid no mind and walked further through the square. He made sure to memorize where every building was before heading back to his room.  
  
John was walking up the stairs when Mike approached him.  
  
"John! I'm glad I found you, Sherlock's here. Do you want to see him?" His ears perked at the name, and so did his stomach which began to knot with anxiety.  
  
Walking down the hall, he grew more and more anxious. Sounds of objects moving around and feet shuffling became louder as they came through the doorway.  
  
"Sherlock," Mike greeted. "Got someone here for you–"  
  
"Yes I'm aware," the boy snapped. He stood with his back turned towards John and Mike, currently occupied with setting up his clothing within his wardrobe.  
  
John was speechless. That boy's voice was so deep yet he was so skinny, it didn't match him. Nothing matched him, his hair was too curly for his head; when he turned around to face John he noticed that his eyes were a striking blue but couldn't place exactly what color. His skin was so pale, it looked sickly as if he weren't taking care of himself properly.  
  
Also, if this school was considered posh and a person could embody that poshness, it was Sherlock. The school let students wear their regular clothing but Sherlock adorned a suit, probably designer, a charcoal grey jacket with the same color trousers and a white dress shirt underneath.  
  
He held out his hand for John to take it. "Sherlock Holmes. Apologies for the inconvenience of roommate choice."


End file.
